


Re Malvagio (Wicked King)

by batmanisabanana



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Bottom Louis, M/M, Obsession, Top Harry, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 08:49:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17598110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batmanisabanana/pseuds/batmanisabanana
Summary: He appeared like an angel. Walking down fifth avenue wearing all white. Out of the filthy masses, he is alone. Out of the cesspool of impure, disgusting shits, emerges something unlike any of them. And they... cannot... touch.. him.Harry wants to know what pure tastes like.





	1. Prologue

**NEW YORK CITY'S** filled with scum and dirt bags. Bums, hookers, junkies. The smell of garbage and filth is hooked onto the streets and waifs about the air in a tenacious manner.

 _The end of the world starts here_ , Harry thinks. _One day God will judge the wicked and bestow upon them a rain so violent it will wash off everything unholy in this place._

Not even Harry Styles will be spared. Everyone's an animal here. A jungle of hooligans that celebrate the sick and the venal. Something twisted and screwed up about everyone's persona.

But then..

There's one walking contradiction.

He appeared like an angel. Walking down fifth avenue wearing all white. Out of the filthy masses, he is alone. Out of the cesspool of _impure_ , disgusting _shits_ , emerges something unlike any of them.

AND THEY..

CANNOT..

TOUCH..

HIM.


	2. Chapter 2

**KINGS** can't only be found in castles. Sometimes they sit in dingy corner diners where the smell of smoke and ashes is prevalent in the air.

Harry sits with a cigar between the V of his fingers, which are clad with rings of rubies and gold. A lion is displayed in the circle of his thumb, jaw open in a violent roar. And, on his pinky; a simple square cut diamond the shade of the darkest night.

Around him; other men as wicked as he are talking over each other, discussing the usual business. They are all dressed in opulent suits, greed in their eyes as smoke billows out from their parted lips.

Harry wears a steady look on his face as he takes a long drag of his tobacco. Dark eyes glinting as the head of his cigar burns bright orange. A smile appears on his face, disarming and malicious, as his boys crack a lewd joke in the middle of a negotiation.

He is a colossal of a man; who reeked of wealth and bad intentions.

"I'm saying - - with all due respect, 'course.. that protection ain't cheap! And.. after that stunt you pulled last month, higher authorities are breathing down my neck, Harry."

The smile fades into a lone stare, something ominous about his eyes. Everyone quiets down as Harry sits straighter, no longer in a slouch, and kills his _Guhrka_ on the ashtray.

Because of the sudden silence, the copper who spoke, has a body reminiscent to a falling leaf in autumn. Shivering, scared, like the flutter of butterfly wings.

"So you want more money, officer? Is that it?" The smile is back, but the look in his eyes remain the same. Even when his head moves, as his expression changes, it remains ever-fixed. Unblinking. Piercing into an empty space. "Higher authorities.. to whom are you referring to? Because the politicians.. I carry them around in my pocket, see. And I know that they wouldn't ask around about me."

Harry is a raw male force. Driving forward; towards _what_ \- - no one can tell. But he steadies on, a kind of turbulent sex. Sick sex, repressed sex, but sex nonetheless. And as the earth moves towards the sun, Harry Styles moves towards violence.

Nervously, the dirty cop shrinks into his seat. Beads of sweat beginning to shine on his forehead. No longer confident, no longer arrogant. Just a bird caught in a storm.

"The F.B.I, sir.. they're asking about you."

The laughter that bellows out from Harry's chest rumbles so loud, echoing along the four walls of the little establishment.

"F.B.I.. _F.... B.... I._.."

As volatile as lightning, Harry whips his pistol out and shoots between the space of the man's feet, aiming solely on the floor. The sound of gun shots being fired is a majestic thing, cracking and loud. The perfect music for a man who is only comfortable at war.

His boys, smiles at this. Used to his antics. But the copper however, adjusts his already straightened tie, and coughs. His face as white as a sheet, fear in his pale blue eyes.

"And you want more money from me so you won't answer them? You want me to pay you not to be a rat-fuck!?" His hands slams onto the table violently. It cracks under pressure, old little thing. Just like the officer in front of him. So, useless that it is, he flips the table around, his hands made for destruction.

There's a type of hysterical fury about the shake of his gaunt jaw as he moves to stand in direct eyesight of the man who seconds ago was close to being discarded like the table itself. And Harry is every bit as dangerous as a loaded gun. An illogical, bloodthirsty man.

"I.. sir, please.. I didn't! I don't want anything.. please sir.. forgive me." Poor scared little man, drops to his knees and tentatively takes Harry's hand in both his own. Kissing on the rings of his fingers, desperate to show respect. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.."

Harry grabs his chin with his fingertips, turning it upright so he faces him. He flinches as Harry wipes away the tears streaming down his cheeks, and exhales.

"Why don't you go home, Scott? We don't want your wife to miss you too much." The voice is calm now, soothing too. But the threat is heard. And as the man kisses his feet and retreats, Harry fixes his suit once again and smiles. Sits back down on the unmovable chair.

"Luca.. make sure to pay old man Reggie later for the floors and the table,"

"And Scott, sir? Should I... _pay_ him too?" He smiles slyly.

"No.. not now. Always a messy thing, killing a cop. Besides, he won't be squeaking to those animals anytime soon."

They all snicker at this. Continuing as they once were before Harry's deadly tantrum.

"Zayn. How's my boy?"

 _Louis Tomlinson_. An angel within the sea of devils. The beautiful boy dressed in white as he crossed the street between 63rd and Manhattan. Harry's special boy, the only purity left in this open sewer.

"Did his usual routine. Walked from his apartment to work. Got lunch from his favourite food truck. But he switched his orders, though, boss. He didn't go for the cuban sandwich this time. Tried a salad instead."

"Ah, my angel should be healthy. Was he alone?"

"Yep. When are you going to introduce yourself, boss? It's been two weeks since you saw him."

Harry closes his eyes. " _Soon_."

 


End file.
